Prim's Games
by riptidedauntlessgryffindor
Summary: What if it was Prim who volunteered for Katniss at the reaping? Written by EB


**The Reaping**

I'm being chased. I look behind me. Its the head Peacekeeper. That must mean I'm in trouble. The Peacekeeper is just about to grab me when...I wake up.

_It's only a dream, _I reassure myself, _The reaping isn't that bad._

The first thing I notice is the pool of sweat where I was sleeping. The second is that Katniss's bed sheets have been practically thrown off her bed.

_She's out hunting with Gale_, I think as I slowly get up and tend to my goat, Lady. "Good morning,"I whisper to her. I cherish the crisp air while I can, because soon the air will smell like the putrid odor of the Capitols jets.

When I get back inside, I find mother already preparing a bath for me.

I quickly bathe and eat breakfast-a slice of goat cheese and a small bite of a turkey we have made last us about two months so far.

Just as I'm finishing the last crumbs of breakfast, I'm whisked away by my mother to get ready for the reaping. She does my hair in two braids and just manages to fit me into Katniss's old dress without it slipping off of my shoulders.

I look in the mirror and watch myself transform from a little peasant girl to an elegant young lady, as beautiful as the flower that I was named after. I feel like a young lady, too until Katniss suddenly barges in the door.

She's the one who always snaps me back into reality when I'm dreaming. And it's a good thing, because while you're dreaming, others might be dying. That's how things go here in District Twelve.

They nicknamed our part "The Seam." The Seam is where all the poor, starving, or homeless people of the district live. Some very unfortunate people are all three.

I stare at Katniss, amazed at her long flowing braid. She come over to me and tucks my dress in. _"_Tuck in your dress, little duck," she whispers. I giggle and reply with a,"quack."

"You look beautiful,"I say quietly to Katniss. "Not as pretty as you, Prim." she replies with a smile. If there's one thing Katniss knows how to do, it's cheer me up.

We walk slowly to the reaping, trying to start interesting conversations about this and that, but we all know what each other is really thinking.

The reaping is kind of like a raffle. A sickening, terrible raffle. The Capitol's representatives pick two children between the ages of twelve and eighteen, a boy and a girl. They are called tributes. There are twenty four tributes total because we are the last district. All of the tributes compete in an arena-to the death. That's the Hunger Games.

We line up in front of the Justice building along with the rest of District 12, dreading the next few upcoming minutes.

A hush falls over the crowd as Effie Trinket, the representative for district twelve climbs slowly onto the stage. The Capitol have a very...unique style. This year Effie has a bright pink wig on and her skin is slightly tinted orange, making her look like she has a fake tan.

Effie finally makes her way up to the stage and says with fake enthusiasm, "Ladies and gentle men, welcome to the reaping!" Nobody applauds. She tries a more calm approach. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor." The only person applauding now is drunk Haymitch, who seems to have just realized that its reaping day.

I hold my breath along with the rest of District Twelve as she starts to pick the unfortunate girl to compete in the games. "Ladies first," as Effie always reminds us. "This year's female tribute will be..." She pauses for effect,"Katniss Everdeen!"

Katniss! Suddenly, a thought pops into my head. A thought that will probably get me killed, none the less, but still... Just as as Katniss is walking up to the stage, I yell as loud as I can, "I volunteer as tribute!"

Whatever talking there once was is now gone. I block out the sound of Katniss screaming in protest as I walk onto the stage. "What's your name?" Effie asks me. "Primrose Everdeen. Prim, for short." I answer. "Lets hear it for Primrose!" Effie shouts. Nobody applauds, but somebody raises up three fingers. A sign meaning good luck. I hardly even notice as the male tribute, for I'm watching the crowd. Soon everybody's hand is raised. I'm almost moved to tears before I realize I'm going to need all the hands I can get before I even have a chance at winning.


End file.
